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 Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 11:31 am
 Absolutely nothing had happened today. Again. Widow was not pleased by the lack of events. The closest she'd come to doing something was eating a somewhat over-ripe berry bunch which gave her a momentarily interesting sensation before nothing happened again. It was evening now, and she wasn't sure whether to be glad that it was nearly over, or that another day had passed as such. But she chose not to think too much, and instead walked until she found a small, relatively clear pond - caught by her reflection, she paused, examined her rump in the ripples, looked up at the rising moon and promptly stepped into the water for a cool bath. Widow trailed her locks across the pond's surface and watched the small waves for a lack of something better to do.
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 12:10 pm
Crimson Tears was alone. His companion, Reflects Light, had scurried off to find some food. The mongoose was smart enough to return when his hunger was met, so the buck wasn’t too concerned. In his solitude, he roamed about with nothing to do. The beginnings of inspiration bloomed in his mind, but he couldn’t quite make out the picture yet. It was as if he were plagued by something he couldn’t remember – something he couldn’t say, despite it being on the tip of his tongue. It was frustrating, yes, but he knew better than to prod his muse when it slept.
As he walked through the brush and over a particularly brittle log, he came across a clearing of sorts. His nose took to the air as the sweet scent of another wafted through the evening. Intrigued, he followed the alluring smell and was surprised to find a doe. He said nothing and watched in silent admiration. Slowly, a light turned on in his brain. The inspiration that nearly escaped him returned in full, unrelenting force; it threatened to overwhelm him. His intentions to stay and watch weren’t lecherous as they were creative. Without even realizing it, he began to chant softly.
“Cascading scarlet waterfall of beauty…silver trees, aged with pearl moonbeams…nightfall temptress…”
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 1:00 pm
Widow had noticed, in the pond's reflection, someone else joining her - and staring. The moon lit his pale coat too well for camoflage, but that was alright...she wasn't averse to (what she took as) admiration and continued to move in the water, purposefully and prettily.
It was hard not to note his presence after his odd little whisper though, that would be a bit too contrived. She turned, tossed her scarlet waterfall and asked in smooth, bold tones, "bone-pale pervert fading into foliage? Crimson-eyed creeper waiting in the woods?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 2:04 pm
Crimson Tears gaped, feeling both embarrassed and unnerved at the same time. He genuinely had no control over his inner poet, and try as he might, once the words infiltrated his brain they refused to be contained. Still, he owed the doe a serious apology. “Please forgive me. I didn’t intend to spy on you. I was simply…” He trailed off, desperately searching his vocabulary for something that wouldn’t sound creepy. When he arrived at nothing, he simply shuffled about, speechless.
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 4:25 pm
She smiled sagely, watching his sad little dance - he sounded like a genuinely nice, if awkward boy. She emerged from the water and slowly stepped onto the bank, shaking off droplets with a sultry pulse that started from her rump to her shoulders.
"Don't be so shy," she recommended, "I'm simply not as good with words." Widow half-circled the strange buck, and lingered at an opportunely moonlit spot. "I did like the part about nightfall temptress..."
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 8:39 am
He was enchanted. Most bucks would have ogled this mysterious doe for her looks alone – and really, she was beautiful – but Crimson Tears was more mesmerized with her aura. She carried herself so alluringly…it was by far the most inspiring thing he’d come across. Were he an artist he would have etched her figure into the trunk of a tree, but being a vocal poet, he could only fumble over the words that were paralyzing his tongue.
“Crimson Tears,” he spoke suddenly. “That’s my name.” If he couldn’t find something to talk about, the least he could have done was introduced himself. Especially after making his 'grand entrance' the way he did.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 9:46 am
"I was close." She considered, "Crimson Tears - it is dramatic. I suppose I should go next?"
The wind blew damp strands of hair across her muzzle, streaking her muzzle with a red slash.
"Death to Death." Every word enunciated, as if a warning. Her voice softened, took an airy turn. "But you can call me Widow. Is that too trite?" She challenged playfully, her eyes glowing a mellow, unsettling scarlet.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 10:01 am
“I suppose that it is a bit pretentious…” he said quietly, peeking at her through a sliver of his dark mane. It wasn’t as if he had a choice, though. The Naming Dreams came with little room for debate. And speaking of such… He practically buckled when she revealed her own name.
“Death to Death?” he uttered, fascinated, before quickly correcting himself. “Willow, yes. That’s lovely. Willow…sweeping branches bowing at midnight’s song.” There it went again. Really, he needed to control himself. This was quite embarrassing.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 10:25 am
Willow? Widow's eyelids lowered briefly, allowing herself a moment to be amused, before proceeding to play along with him, gazing steadily at his namesake markings. "Oh, so there it goes again. I thought you were rather poetic at first, but your conversation wasn't very scintillating when I spoke to you. I'm glad to know you're the same buck."
"Come Crimson Tears," she lowered herself delicately, folding her hooves below as she rested on the grass. "You look like you've been on your feet too long. Perhaps sitting will make you more comfortable."
Talking to an odd buck was as good a thing to do as any.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 12:56 pm
Crimson Tears obeyed – perhaps a bit too quickly – and situated himself not quite beside her, but a reasonable foot or so away. “I’m not entirely sure how to explain it,” he began, his mane rustling in the cool night breeze. “You remind me of a willow.”
Her name was Widow. Widow, Widow, Widow. Not Willow.
“Thank you, though. For inviting me to sit with you. It was rather…unexpected. Especially after I interrupted your bath.” Crimson Tears wasn’t the best conversationalist in Matope, but bless his heart, he certainly tried.
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 10:26 am
"Maybe it's the tree on my rump, maybe it's my hair, maybe it's that I'm by the water," she said dismissively, "it doesn't matter. You can call me what you like." She cast a look over and noted teasingly, "scarlet temptress I still like."
"In any case, since I now know your name, and you mine, I can't possibly chase you away." Widow experimentally licked a blade of grass nearby. "Your little artistic phrases are interesting. Do tell how you come up with them."
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 11:44 am
Crimson Tears watched Willow—erm, Widow intently, as if she were the most interesting thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He swallowed thickly when she mentioned the ‘scarlet temptress’ part again and shifted his hooves beneath him. It really wasn’t that likeable, was it?
“I don’t…really know,” he replied softly. If it were as easy as finding the origin of his poetic eruptions, then he would have definitely secured the source by now. “It’s as if I don’t have control of my thoughts; they pour out of my mouth before I can stop them when I’m inspired by something.”
He was sure she wouldn’t be interested in the mechanics of his bohemian brain. No one was.
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 12:31 pm
"So you generate little artsy lines, when you're inspired by something. That's very interesting." A noncommital line as she thoughtfully nipped at the tip of the blade, and her tongue darted out momentarily. "Do you remember everything you come up with? It's a shame if you don't, isn't it?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 12:43 pm
“Not all the time, unfortunately. Sometimes I remember fragments, but that’s about it,” he answered, fearing he’d let the doe down somehow. He tried to recall most of his poetic phrases, but no sooner than he’d spoken them, they would drift away. Crimson Tears didn’t pride himself on his memory.
His gaze became fixated on the blade of grass Widow paid attention to. He almost blurted something out again, but he tightly clamped his mouth shut. Whatever had attempted to get out was swallowed down. Instead, he tried for something else.
“What about you? Are there any unusual qualities you have?” It occurred to him only afterward what he’d said wasn’t exactly polite. He quickly amended himself. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude. I didn’t mean it like that.” Smooth. Very smooth.
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 1:12 pm
She nodded slightly in his admission and considered speaking, but allowed him to continue his sentence instead, since he seemed so nervy talking about himself. Nice boy, she thought.
"That's fine," Widow said soothingly. "You're sweet. I wouldn't be upset with you like some does would. As for me...nothing at all, I'm afraid. I haven't found anything about myself that's interesting in the slightest."
Her head lifted in his direction. "That was why I'm so fascinated to hear about you. You've got something interesting. And with your strange gift - well, you make me sound interesting!"
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